Chapter 2012 - Matchmaking Conference (III)
The Council of Elders routinely lambasted the Ming Dynasty for its inefficiency and resource waste. Now, to have a Ming official turn those very criticisms back upon them struck Du Yibin as deliciously ironic.
Not that he was surprised. Song Yingsheng might be among the rarest breed at the dynasty's twilight—a conscientious, capable official—but he remained fundamentally an old-style scholar. Despite his farmer-scholar roots, his worldview placed him squarely among those who "ruled the people," regarding commoners as mere laborers devoid of independent thought.
This intellectual arrogance persisted even into the twenty-first century. But in that era, with advanced productivity and widespread education, many manual laborers had learned to think in the terms of intellectuals, constructing their own hierarchies of contempt.
In the seventeenth century, however, "farming-reading families" like Song Yingsheng's—clans with examination degrees and histories of official service—viewed common people as inherently ignorant and obstinate. The Song brothers counted themselves among the more benevolent gentry. In the eyes of truly corrupt officials or cruel clerks, ordinary subjects ranked below insects.
They knew the saying well enough: "Water can carry the boat but also overturn it." Yet in practice, they thought like King Yu taming the flood—never considering how the water felt, only how to extract benefit while preventing disaster.
Despite days of travel together, could such entrenched thinking be uprooted overnight? Were the Song brothers not rare practical talents of this century, men of proven integrity and capability, Du Yibin wouldn't waste such effort on them. He cleared his throat and shot Lu Cheng and the others a warning glance—calm down. He turned to Song Yingsheng with measured courtesy:
"Mr. Song, your remarks misapprehend the matter. Since ancient times, marriage between men and women has been a solemn affair. How can you dismiss it as trivial?"
The statement served as a shield, preemptively blocking Song's argument. After all, continuing the family line stood paramount among Chinese ethical imperatives.
Song Yingsheng fell silent. Du Yibin pressed forward:
"We've held matchmaking conferences many times in Hainan. In scale, venue quality, and participant numbers, all exceeded what you see here in Guangzhou. Had Guangzhou not been so recently liberated, with countless urgent matters demanding attention, the city's inaugural matchmaking conference would never have been this modest and hurried."
Du Yibin spoke truthfully. In terms of spectacle and grandeur, even Gaoxiong surpassed Guangzhou, let alone the "temporary capital" of Lingao. Only financial constraints had made this event so austere.
"Marriage ranks among life's momentous occasions. Even in the Ming Dynasty, scholars celebrate two great triumphs: the day they pass the imperial examinations and their wedding night. Since this constitutes a momentous and joyous event for naturalized citizens, as their leaders we must help men and women choose suitable partners. We certainly wouldn't delegate such importance to a mere official matchmaker and clerk, letting them muddle through perfunctorily."
"People possess varied temperaments and preferences. The commoners under our Council hail from all corners of the realm, speaking different dialects, observing different customs. To have a matchmaker and clerk pair them by name from a list—forgive my bluntness—how does that differ from breeding livestock? The ancients themselves declared that harmony between husband and wife represents a beautiful ideal. Since these people live under our Great Song Council's governance, and we arrange their lifelong unions, naturally we must consider the matter thoroughly. Otherwise, wouldn't we be treating our subjects as less than human? We would be no better than those usurper Ming officials—versed in poetry yet conducting themselves like thieves and prostitutes, abandoning loyalty for profit, burning bridges after crossing. Of course, Mr. Song, you don't belong among that majority. Were that the case, I would never have encouraged you to join our Great Song."
The words carried concealed barbs that left Song Yingsheng momentarily winded. Though unconvinced, he recognized that his opponent had claimed the moral high ground of "valuing the people." Rebuttal wouldn't come easily. Of course, if he truly wished to argue, invoking "righteousness over trivial propriety" wouldn't prove difficult. But as a prisoner, what purpose would winning a point serve? Besides, the latter half of Du's speech revealed something significant: the Great Song Council valued him highly. Though he couldn't fathom why, the recognition stirred a measure of pride.
The Song brothers had passed the provincial examinations simultaneously, becoming a celebrated story throughout Jiangxi. Yet in subsequent years they had repeatedly failed the metropolitan examinations, never even achieving "Associate Doctor" status. They'd entered government service through the juren selection process—not only limiting their official advancement but placing them a rung lower in bureaucratic hierarchy.
That Australians from thousands of miles distant would value the brothers so highly—Song Yingsheng felt the warm glow of being understood and appreciated.
"Furthermore, Mr. Song doesn't yet understand our Great Song's customs. In the usurper Ming, as you described, artisans and reformed prostitutes can be matched by simple list pairing. Gentry children marry according to parental decrees and matchmakers' words—men and women wed without ever meeting or knowing each other. We firmly oppose such practices that disregard mutual understanding. We emphasize free will and voluntary choice upon meeting. We must honor the preferences of both men and women. We may encourage and persuade, but we absolutely cannot impose matches by force. That's why we organize these matchmaking conferences. Success or failure rests upon their choice. Having chosen, they must bear the consequences. Forced assignment? We neither advocate nor support such methods."
This doctrine of custom proved utterly unacceptable to Song Yingsheng. While "parental orders and matchmakers' words" might not constitute inviolable law, they represented prevailing social convention. For men and women to marry based on mutual affection—according to ritual propriety, that amounted to illicit elopement...
He held his silence, listening as Elder Du expounded further:
"...Moreover, under the Council's governance, naturalized citizens differ only in rank and title. Whether county magistrate or factory worker, all are naturalized citizens without distinction between noble and base. This differs profoundly from the usurper Ming. Mr. Song will gradually comprehend this in time."
Du Yibin's repeated references to the "usurper Ming" grated on Song Yingsheng considerably. If one spoke of usurpation, those two Zhao brothers represented the genuine article.
Du Yibin continued his discourse, but Song Yingsheng's attention had wandered. From Elder Du's lengthy exposition, he'd grasped the fundamental reason the Australians spared no expense on this elaborate production. They sought a demonstration effect—to display the Council's benevolence and righteousness, enticing impoverished commoners to submit to these queue-cutters.
Reflecting on the journey from Enping to Guangzhou, observing the Australians' administration throughout, everything prioritized "the people's interests"—buying popular support, especially courting the poor. Though the region hadn't achieved complete pacification, their reputation among common folk remained surprisingly favorable.
He could envision how such calculated favors would persuade many Guangdong natives to voluntarily shave their heads and become naturalized citizens. Perhaps within a few short years, most of Guangdong's residents would comply willingly. Without deploying soldiers or weapons, they could induce the people to "change customs"! The thought deepened his despair for the Ming's future. His face darkened considerably.
While the two men conversed, Qin Ruiyu led propaganda personnel through random interviews with registered couples. The Sheep City Express planned a special issue on the event—not merely to trumpet the "new administration's new atmosphere" but to discuss modern marriage and free love in conjunction with the "New Life Movement." Though this official matchmaking could hardly qualify as free love, it established precedent.
Qin Ruiyu didn't conduct interviews personally, instead "mentoring" intern reporters on-site.
For most men, facing interviews represented an entirely novel experience. Predominantly low-level workers and clerks with minimal education, they possessed poor verbal skills and stammered uncertainly, managing only stock phrases: thanking the Council of Elders, long live the Council, promising to serve the Council and people better henceforth... Yet their eyes and smiles expressed their inner excitement and joy with vivid eloquence.
The women proved more voluble. Though their language didn't quite conform to the Council's preferred propaganda style, their simple, colloquial responses satisfied Elder Qin—he'd grown weary of the rigid propaganda formulas currently employed by his department. Inevitably, toward the end of interviews, students would recite political slogans learned from Lu Cheng and other cadres. But this indirectly demonstrated their "educational progress," which pleased Elder Qin. Lu Cheng naturally beamed with satisfaction.
"Now, everyone sit together in pairs. The reporters will photograph you. On your wedding day, these will be presented as commemorative gifts." Qin Ruiyu directed his subordinates to capture the images, privately lamenting that the Council hadn't yet replicated color photography technology.
Both students and naturalized citizens displayed pronounced shyness now. Yesterday they'd been strangers; today they were betrothed. This photograph represented their engagement—didn't it? The whole situation felt dreamlike!
The residual awkwardness between men and women, mingled with the startling reality of their betrothal, made them bashful. Only under the coaxing and encouragement of naturalized reporters did they settle onto benches in pairs for their "wedding portraits."
"Completely separate all successfully matched students. Don't let them intermingle with other students any longer," Du Yibin instructed Lu Cheng and the others. "Next comes waiting for the wedding announcement—monitor the students' emotional states closely. We also need to make preparations for housing. Otherwise it'll prove embarrassing when we have no bridal chambers."
He spoke plain truth. The naturalized staff and workers transferred to Guangzhou—aside from the few who owned property in Lingao—mostly resided in dormitories or rented rooms. In Guangzhou they also occupied collective dormitories.
Establishing families naturally required separate housing. This represented yet another headache for Du Yibin.
Lu Cheng flushed crimson with excitement, nodding vigorously. "I understand! I'll handle their emotional work diligently." Her eyes reddened as she spoke. "I'm not upset—I'm happy... truly happy..."